.Au cÅur gris de la ville,
Assis sur un banc,
Le temps passe tout comme mon jean
Mais il passe moins vite
Que le temps d'avant
Je mariais les villes à mes chemises
Moi je parle autant de langue
Que j'ai vécu d'années
Autant de blé sur que le ciel a d'étoiles
.
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